Bad Boy

Marky B
Flocon

He, he makes me want it in the worst way
I shouldn't want it in the first place
'Cause he's a bad, bad boy
Bad boy, bad boy
Oh he keeps on showing all these red flags
But still I know I want it so bad
'Cause he's a bad, bad boy
Bad boy, bad boy, bad boy

They can't bring it how I bring it on the mic
Never took chase once, out ripping on a bike
Don't talk no gas, just facts on the mic
Round here we rip on a sick 85
250, 125, big four fiddy whatever you ride
Two man deep with Jimmy on a Vitti all night
In a convoy with a sick 335
PC pressed and still getting dusted
Fuck a Facebook status, not a muppet
Fresh off a chase, got away that's cushty
Under the seat there's a rusty, oops
We just (just) got a (got a) jail sentence in the boot
Wouldn't ever shoot
Rather go toe-to-toe with a dude
But there's four charvas I know that Will

We don't (don't don't) need much
Full table of shots and you can't keep up
Dance all night, get your heartbeat up
'Cause tomorrow's never promised, this party's nuts
We don't need much
Full table of shots and you can't keep up
Dance all night, get your heartbeat up
'Cause tomorrow's never promised, this party's nuts

He, he makes me want it in the worst way
I shouldn't want it in the first place
'Cause he's a bad, bad boy
Bad boy, bad boy (ha)

What do you mean?
Haze or Stardawg, I love this weed
They can't believe my name's on the scene
Like Marky B, I could take your B (ha)
Trying to rush me, cushty bari
Ever heard bars so hard like Marky's?
The sick bastard chilling at parties
Bradford grafters, wiring farmys
I rag huskies, rip up the earth
GTD's round here, pull birds
Who's that guy in the whip causing a concern?
That stoner with a perm
Wake and bake, I just got one word
Let me roll up a pukkas of the finest herbs
BD3 hear Irish words, or BD4 take chase on a curb

Yo wagwan charva, Bradford charva
Everybody says they're a cannabis farmer
We got NCA in Navaras
Fully ballied up like game old charvas
It's got marvy in Bradford, live like gangsters
You know Marky, fuck a piggy bastard
We ain't actors, we're just charvas
We're just grafters causing palavers
Ripping Navaras, poaching the farmers
Fuck a camera, we all wear balaclavas
They can't match us, can't with a bad look
Got the locks it's stacked up
My boy got a five stretch mad
That he's running his graft from her Majesty's pad
All the boys winning and we come from Brads
Fuck the government, they want us all on tag

He makes me want it in the worst way
I shouldn't want it in the first place
'Cause he's a bad, bad boy
Bad boy, bad boy



Credits
Writer(s): Florence O'conor, Mark Baldwin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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